


Into the Light

by Clea2011



Category: Primeval
Genre: Angst, Inspired by Art, M/M, Peril
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:39:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clea2011/pseuds/Clea2011
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor just isn't any good at following orders and staying put.  In contrast, he's excellent at putting himself in danger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Light

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Primeval_denial Art prompt challenge on Live Journal. This was prompted by this gorgeous artwork by luvconnor. You can view it in full on her journal, go and tell her how great it is [here](http://luvconnor.livejournal.com/53008.html). Thanks to the lovely fififolle for the beta!

 

When he was a little boy, Connor had been afraid of the dark. 

When he'd got older, he'd soon discovered that there were other far better things to be scared of.

Then all the power had gone out at the building where they'd located an anomaly, and there were future predators on the loose, and suddenly the dark looked pretty scary again.

At least Becker was in there too, that was something.  Becker, who was always standing guard over them all, constantly alert, taking his job as the team's main protector so very seriously.  Connor would feel a lot safer if Becker was standing right next to him now.  But Becker wasn't anywhere nearby, and as there were only the two of them and they were still waiting for backup to arrive, Connor was feeling far too alone.

Connor bit his lip.  He very much wanted to say something, call out to Becker, even though there was little chance he would hear and every chance that the predators would.  Connor just wanted something, anything to break the silence.  Noise was his distraction, the reason he liked to chatter so much.  If there was silence, there was far too much time to think.  And Connor was very, very good at thinking. 

He didn't know where Becker was.  They'd been separated.  Admittedly that was partly Connor's fault because Becker had told him to stay in the truck.  But that didn't seem right, and Connor had taken a gun from the endless supply Becker always liked to carry in the vehicle, and gone after him. Connor would have happily followed Becker anywhere.  In retrospect, it might not have been his brightest idea.

Right now, Becker could be anywhere in the building.  Or one of those things could've already got him, ripped him apart so fast there wasn't even time to scream.  They could do that.  He'd seen them do that.

Becker, though, he seemed to have some sort of immunity to it all.  So many times Connor had thought the soldier was dead, yet he'd still managed to come striding back in, all black uniform and morose expression.  And perfect hair.  Becker's hair might win prizes.  Nothing ever mussed it up.  Connor would've quite liked to try, but he was fairly sure Becker would reject him if he did.  Connor didn't need that, he'd had enough rejection over the years and the strange almost friendship that they balanced between them was enough.  Most of the time. 

If Becker was dead, and those things had come back through the anomaly that Connor's invention had detected, then it was Connor's fault.  He should've known that Becker would never wait for backup, just go charging on in to try and save the day.  He'd left Connor to do the calling to the ARC for that backup, and headed inside.  Becker wasn't very good at waiting for things.  Connor, on the other hand, could wait forever.  As long as it wasn't in a truck, when his friend was in danger.   With Becker, he knew he probably would be waiting forever for what he wanted.  And if Connor didn't find Becker and the protection he offered soon then he wouldn't have much of a forever to wait in.

The dark was oppressive.  He couldn't see.  And if he called out, if he made any sort of noise, those damned things would be on him in seconds.  They used sonar, so it probably didn't matter too much if he used a torch, and just maybe Becker would be able to find him, because Becker had a sixth sense where rescuing people was concerned.

Smart phones were a brilliant invention.  They had an app for everything.   He pulled it out of his pocket and turned on the torch app.  Not too bright, but at least it let him see around.  He could see the piles of boxes in the storeroom where he stood.  He could see the doorway, and the start of the corridor beyond.  He could see the hand on the edge of the doorway.  The large, grey, scaly, clawed hand...

Connor barely breathed.  There had only been the one entrance.  It was a small storeroom in the basement, and the only way out was past the predator.  It had seemed okay when he'd gone down there, before the lights had suddenly failed, and before he'd realised it was future predators that they were dealing with, but now he was regretting not doing as Becker told him and staying in the truck.  If he made the slightest sound it would be on him and it would all be over, and probably so quickly he would barely have time to register what was happening. 

One blessing at least, then.

It was just standing there, listening.  Normally just a heartbeat was enough, and Connor was certain that his heart was beating so fast and loud that the thing would be able to sense him a mile away.  But it didn't pounce, just stood there, waiting. 

And then, suddenly, it was gone.  Connor's shoulders sagged in relief, managing not to give the heavy sigh of relief that was almost instinctive because if he did the thing would be back in a moment.

It was, he realised a few moments later, because of the metal storage crates in front of him, thick enough that the creature couldn't sense his heartbeat through them, that he had been spared.  Maybe they should start considering body armour.  Maybe his tac vest was the reason Becker always managed to survive the things?  If he got out of this alive, it was something Connor would investigate.

But first, he had to get out.

Cautiously he stepped out from behind the crates, wary of meeting another predator, or the same one returning.  There was no sign of them, but then he could only see a few metres in front of him, and not even that much very well.

They were fast.  Fast enough that they might be on him before he even knew they were there.  He'd seen men torn apart by the predators, heard the brief screams cut off far too soon.

He had to find Becker, if the soldier was still alive. 

Eventually there would be backup.  Becker had radioed for it before they left the truck, but it would take a while for his men to arrive.  And then of course they'd need to know where to go, because Connor wasn't sitting in the truck to direct them like he was supposed to be.  Becker, if he'd survived, wasn't going to be very pleased, Connor realised.  But then Becker never was.

They'd found this by chance, Connor still testing his anomaly detector, trying it over different frequencies, still fine-tuning it.  And then it had gone off, and they'd raced to the crumbling factory near the Isle of Dogs.  It was derelict, with signs all over warning people to stay out, that demolition was imminent.  It looked as if it might fall apart at any moment.  Surprising, really, that the power had still been on at all.  Not surprising that the predators had managed to do something to knock it out.

He kept the torch on.  There was a far greater chance of them finding him from a single footfall than the tiny phone light.  And it stopped him tripping over the debris from the crumbling building, something which would be noisy enough to cause his death within moments.

Suddenly there was the sound of gunfire, a deafening crash, and the building seemed to shake all around him. 

Connor ran.  The noise elsewhere would have attracted any predators, so he was as safe as he could be, and not a moment too soon as the vibrations from whatever had just happened above him had the already frail walls crumbling in behind him as he scrambled up the stairs, jumping over the hole where one step had collapsed and throwing himself forward as the ceiling fell in and buried the stairway behind him.  He flung his arms up over his head, curling in a protective ball.  Something hit his leg and he could feel little pieces of the aftermath of the collapse raining down on him.  Above him he could hear the building creaking, and knew he needed to get out of there before the rest of it descended on his head.

The air was thick with dust and Connor lay there for a moment where he had fallen.  He had to get up.  The noise he made was going to attract every predator in the area, just as tempting as the first crash and worse still it was more recent.  Somehow he had managed to hold onto his gun, but his phone was gone.  Not that it mattered too much, on the ground floor at least there was a little light, filtering through the dust that was heavy in the air.  Above him there was the sound of something falling again, smaller and lighter but enough to tell him that whatever was happening with the predators he was in just as much danger of being buried under a ton of masonry.  He tried to get up and was hit with a searing pain in his right leg as soon as he started to move it.

The gunfire rang out again, and he hoped that it meant that Becker was still alive.  Not that he would object to it being their much-needed backup, but given the choice he'd prefer a living Becker.  But it wasn't nearby, and Connor's hopes of being found by his friend were slim.  Worse, he could see through the hazy light that there was movement.  A creature, picking its way across the debris, coming towards him.  Probably the same one that had been down in the basement, he realised.  Forcing himself into a half-sitting, half-lying position so that he had at least some hope of aiming the gun, Connor waited.

It hadn't sensed him yet, though Connor was sure his heart was racing so fast that it must have sounded like a drum to the creature.  Probably the only thing saving him now were the creaks and groans from the decrepit building as it gradually began to give in to gravity.  The same thing that would, if he stayed there, probably kill him.

There was another gunshot, two.  Connor strained to listen, trying to tell if it was getting closer.  If Becker had any sense he'd be trying to get out of the building before it collapsed and would have no idea that Connor was trapped until he reached the empty truck.  And even then all he would probably do is try the phone, because he would reason that who would be stupid enough to go into the building when Becker had specifically told them not to?

If he did that, the phone would ring.  Connor hadn't put it on silent.  It was somewhere nearby, and unlikely to be so completely buried that the sound would be muffled.  The creature would be on him instantly.

It crept closer, near enough now that if it turned its head in the right direction it would sense him immediately.  Nervously Connor shifted the gun, trying to get a clear aim.  There was a crash from behind him, as more of the stairwell collapsed.  The creature looked up, over towards the noise, and suddenly it was moving forwards, heading for him.

He saw the exact moment when it realised he was there, that it wasn't just another piece of falling masonry in its path.  It stopped, applying its senses, focusing on him, and then it began to move more quickly, decisively. 

Connor fired.  Missed, and fired again.

The second shot caught it in the shoulder, and there was a screech of pain as it fell back.  But it was only stopped for a moment, then it was coming for him, leaping across the short distance, only giving him the chance for one last shot that went wide and then the thing was on him and it was all he could smell or feel.  He closed his eyes as it covered him, waiting for the pain, hoping it would be quick.

But there was nothing, just the dead weight of the creature crushing him, its foul scent filling his nostrils, making him want to heave.  No claws ripping and tearing at him.  He pushed at it, trying to free himself, to get it off his injured leg, but it wouldn't budge.

And then suddenly it was gone, the body rolled aside and Becker was standing over him.  Connor had never been so glad to see anyone in his life.  It didn't appear to be mutual.   Connor wasn't sure if he'd ever seen the man look so angry.

"What part of stay in the truck didn't you understand?" he growled, crouching down and working to free Connor's leg. 

"I thought I could help."

"Help feed the predators?  Thanks, Connor."  He gently probed the injured leg, stopping when he reached the ankle and Connor hissed with pain.  "Sorry, but I need to check it."

Connor nodded, and let Becker carry on, gritting his teeth against the pain.  He knew Becker was being as gentle as he could, but it wasn't as if they could spare a lot of time.  It seemed to take forever, before Becker stopped, though he was aware it wouldn't have been long.

"I don't think it's broken.  Looks like it's just a bad sprain.  Can you stand?  We have to get out of here and I don't want to carry you."

Connor could do without that humiliation as well.  With Becker's help Connor managed to get to his feet.  His lower right leg and foot still hurt, and he thought Becker was probably right and he'd managed to twist his ankle or something.  Putting his weight on it was agony, and he leaned heavily on Becker.

"Hurts."

"Well next time I tell you to stay put perhaps you'll listen." 

Connor winced at Becker's harsh tone, cringing slightly at the knowledge that the other man was right, and that he was still angry. 

"I was only trying to help," he repeated.  "If you'd run into trouble..."

"I'd be dead.  Because the man I told to stay behind and let the backup team know where I was decided not to do as he was told."  Becker looked down at him critically, watching him trying not to put too much weight on the injured leg, then his tone softened slightly: "Come on, we need to get out of here, two of the creatures were fighting and they brought an internal wall down on top of them.  It's made the entire place unstable.  Can you walk?"

Connor grimaced at the first step, but nodded then managed a small grateful smile when Becker put a strong arm around his waist and supported most of his weight.  "Thanks."

Becker gave a small disparaging "Hmph" sound but didn't let go.  It was nice, despite the pain in his ankle, being held like that.  Becker smelled of gun oil and faintly of some remnant of his aftershave, and then something else that was probably sweat but just made Connor want to breathe it in because it was _Becker_ and more him than anything else.

"Stay quiet, I locked the anomaly but there might be more of them," Becker warned, then added: "I know that's difficult for you."

"Funny."  But Connor didn't say anything else, determined not to let Becker down again.  He leaned close, still clutching his gun though he wasn't sure he'd be much use with it if they did run into any more creatures.

It was a long, slow, painful walk back out of the building.  The fallen masonry was hard enough to clamber over for the able-bodied.  For Connor it was doubly difficult.  Finally, embarrassingly, Becker hoisted him up in a fireman's lift and carried him out.  It wasn't just mortifying, it was uncomfortable too. 

At least they didn't meet any more of the creatures.

"You can put me down!" Connor hissed as soon as they were outside.  Becker ignored him and continued walking towards the truck.  "Becker!  I'm not a complete invalid!"

He could hear voices and knew that the backup had arrived.  He didn't particularly want to meet them slung over Becker's shoulder, his face inches away from the man's arse.  Admittedly it was a nice... no, he told himself, he wasn't going to go there.

Becker deposited him on the passenger seat of the truck, told him to stay there this time, and ran off to join his men.  A few minutes later a medic appeared to take a look at Connor's ankle, which was a painful enough experience that it took Connor's mind off the building and any concerns he might have had for Becker and his men's safety.  At least, until the building started to crumble again.

A single predator raced out of the building, Becker's team on its heels.  It half-ran, half leapt across the yard, running from the bullets but Connor and the medic were right in its path.

The medic jumped into the truck almost on top of Connor, which made his ankle hurt anew, slamming the door and clicking down the lock.  The creature practically threw itself at the truck, which shook with the impact but held firm.

Deprived of easy access to its prey, the predator stopped, turned and faced the soldiers.  The bullets had to sting, but aside from that they were having little effect.  Then Connor's heart twisted in his chest as the thing sprang straight at Becker.  Quick as a flash the soldiers fired and suddenly the thing was lying there, riddled with bullets and gasping for breath.  It didn't gasp for long.

Behind them, the building shuddered and creaked, and then started to fall in on itself.  It was something to watch, Connor thought, though he doubted that they were at a safe distance.  If the building had been any higher they might have been in trouble.  As it was all they had to suffer were clouds of dust floating towards them.  The soldiers retreated, and the medic climbed back out, saying he was going to drive the truck to a safe distance. 

But Becker was faster, already climbing into the driver's seat and putting the vehicle into reverse. 

"I'm taking you back to the ARC just as soon as this place is secure," he warned.   He still seemed quite grumpy, but then Becker was always grumpy.  Often with Connor.  Or the world.

It was nearly an hour before they left.  Connor, his ankle bandaged up a little tighter than he liked, had been forced to sit and watch everything that was going on, no chance of taking part.  And worse, Becker kept checking up on him as if he was some silly child who couldn't be trusted.  By the time they were alone together on the road back to the ARC, Connor wasn't too happy himself.

"I wish you'd stop treating me like a child," he grumbled.

Becker raised an eyebrow.  Connor wished he knew how to do that.  Becker's eyebrows had a life of their own.  "Then don't behave like one.  This job's hard enough without having to keep an eye on where you are all the time as well."

"I don't need you to do that."

"It's my job."

"You don't do it to the others."

He could've sworn there was a faint blush around Becker's ears when he said that.  But the soldier kept his eyes firmly on the road, and as the light was fading to dusk outside, maybe it was just a reflection from the headlights of other cars.   "They're not as accident-prone as you."

That was true, but Connor didn't have to like it.  "I can look after myself.  I'm not a child."

"I've noticed."

Connor frowned, wondering what that was supposed to mean, whether Becker was being sarcastic, or... No, he wasn't sure at all what Becker meant by that.  "Is that supposed to be funny, because I don't..."

Becker suddenly swerved the Hilux into a lay-by, and slammed on the brakes, then turned and glared at Connor.

"No, it's not supposed to be funny!" he growled, leaning forwards, his face just inches away from Connor's.  "It's all a joke to you, all this, isn't it?  People have died!"

"I know," Connor whispered.

"Those things could kill you in an instant, rip you apart.  You think I want to find what's left?  Another body?" 

"I've lost friends, I know..."

"Well I don't want to lose _you_!"  And before Connor had time to register just how much that startled him, Becker closed the gap and pressed his lips against Connor's.

For a moment Connor froze, barely able to believe Becker was doing that.  Then he felt the soldier start to pull away, obviously feeling it wasn't reciprocated, and Connor immediately woke up and started kissing him back.  If he was having some sort of mad hallucination he was at least going to make the most of it.

The hallucination didn't go away.  It pressed him against the seat in a deep, tongue-duelling kiss, and then started to explore, lips gently grazing against Connor's neck, his ear, sending a shiver right though him. 

Connor couldn't help the little moan of pleasure that escaped from him as Becker marked a deep, bruising kiss into the more delicate skin of his throat.  He reached up to pull the soldier closer, his fingers tangling in Becker's hair. 

"Oh...don't stop..."

Becker did stop, pulled back and looked at him.  Connor was pleased to see that he'd managed to muss that perfect hair just a little.  "You've sprained your bloody ankle," Becker growled. 

"It's feeling much better!"  It wasn't, the awkward angle as he'd twisted to meet Becker was making it hurt anew, but some pain was just worth it.

Becker just gave a little "hmph" of disbelief, reached over to kiss him again, then sat back down on the driver's seat, starting up the engine. 

"What're you doing?!"

"What does it look like?  Driving you back to the ARC to get your ankle checked out properly."

"But... we just kissed!"

Becker gave him the particular Becker look that he was so good at, raising one of those expressive eyebrows.  "That only heals injuries in Disney cartoons, Connor."

Maybe it wasn't such a great idea to pursue Becker.  He'd probably be hit with comments like that all the time... even more than he was already.  Still, Connor wasn't going to give up on that mouth.

"I meant we kissed and so now where are we?  No," he could see Becker's expression changing again and knew there was another sarcastic comment headed his way.  Probably that they were in a lay-by or something like that.  "I mean, was that a one-off, or is there more?"

"I'm taking you back to the ARC," Becker repeated.  "Then you're coming back to mine because on a practical level you shouldn't be alone for 24 hours after a bad injury.  We could get some takeaway, watch a DVD."

"Like a date."

"Yes."

"A _cheap_ date."

"A private date.  Because with me, private life means private, Connor.  And if you don't think you can do that then yes, this is a one-off."

"And if I can do it?"

"Then there's more."  Becker gave him a rare smile.  "Much more."

Connor watched as Becker moved the truck into gear, his hand almost caressing the gear stick.  It was, he thought, probably done deliberately. 

Connor knew, given the incentive, that he was going to have to learn to be very, very discreet.

***

 


End file.
